


No Man is an Island

by vix_spes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, FannibalFest2, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, Season/Series 01, Will Graham Has Encephalitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: Will has been isolated for so long out of choice. The only problem is, now he's decided to be a little more sociable, he's not sure what is reality and what is his imagination.





	No Man is an Island

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt for slow_to_pique at FannibalFest2. Huge thanks to evertonem and M for their amazing (and quick) beta-ing skills.

It had become a thing - more of a thing - as time had gone on. This burning urge to invite Hannibal to dinner for so many reasons. To apologise to him for dragging him into Will’s world, to thank him for looking after Will’s dogs, and for all his help with Abigail. Because, despite Will's insistence that he didn't find Hannibal that interesting, Hannibal's quiet conviction that he would had proved the truer statement of the two. He did find Hannibal interesting and, while he would almost keep working for Jack than attend one of Hannibal's famous dinner parties, he wanted to interact with him in a situation outside of Hannibal's office and Jack's crime scenes.

The problem was, Will was no longer sure of what was reality and what was his imagination. He could have sworn that he had asked Hannibal at the end of their last session - sorry, conversation - and that the man had said yes, but now Will was starting to doubt himself. That was happening more and more.

‘No man is an island, entire of itself.’ The famous John Donne quote. For so long, Will had tried to make himself that island, kept himself apart from everybody because he thought it was easier. Except now it wasn't. He was fracturing. The island was eroding and he needed a paddle to keep him afloat. He had found one in Hannibal and he was clinging to it with all he had.

Finally convincing himself that he had invited Hannibal and knowing that the man’s opinions on rudeness wouldn't allow him to refuse the invitation, Will took himself off to the river with the dogs. He may not be able to produce a six course dinner where all of the dishes had names in French or Italian that no-one could pronounce and came paired with expensive wines but he could catch and cook the best fish Hannibal would have ever tasted. Of that he was certain.

(~*~)

When Will woke to the sound of his phone ringing in the pre-dawn light, his head was already pounding which never boded well. Even worse, the ringing sounded angry which meant that it was Jack and a crime scene, something that was confirmed when he answered and had directions barked at him. Pulling himself from damp, sweaty sheets, Will stumbled into the kitchen with the dogs dancing around his feet only to come to a halt in the doorway.

The kitchen was spotless, as it always was due to the lack of time that Will spent there. The only thing missing was the thin layer of dust that usually covered everything and which Will had swept away in anticipation of Hannibal's visit. Yet, there was no sign whatsoever that Hannibal _had_ visited. There were no dishes on the table, none in the sink. There was no indication whatsoever that two people had had dinner in the room the previous evening.

The disappointment settled like lead in his stomach. Had he really imagined everything? Hannibal sat in Will’s little crappy kitchen in one of his pristine suits complimenting Will's cooking and ignoring the way that Buster was drooling over his no doubt very expensive Italian shoes. Their conversation that had spanned everything but Will's work, taking in art, literature, music, Hannibal's extensive travel. Had he imagined Hannibal playing a few notes on his piano and wincing at how out of tune they were. Will's admission that he knew they needed work but that he couldn't quite bring himself to get it done after the Tobias Budge case. Will had actually felt normal for once and he'd enjoyed himself which made the possibility that it was all just a figment of his fevered imagination all the harder to bear.

Not wanting to even stay long enough to make himself coffee, Will dressed, fed the dogs and dry-swallowed a couple of aspirin, getting in his car just as his phone started ringing again, sounding even angrier than before - if that was even possible. He must have looked even worse than he felt, because as he pulled up at the crime scene and staggered out of his car, he saw Zeller and Price look at him before exchanging glances that almost seemed concerned. What he wasn't prepared for though, was to see Hannibal's Bentley pull up mere minutes later, looking incongruous amongst the police cars and Will's own beaten up vehicle.

Will felt his stomach roil, even though there was nothing in it but the aspirin and he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. He felt the warmth of Hannibal at his shoulder but forced himself to remain still, calm

“I hadn't hoped to see you so soon.”

That caught Will's attention. “So soon?”

“After our dinner last night. You fell asleep and I didn't want to wake you, so I did the dishes and left. I was hoping I could prevail upon you for the recipe you used for the fish, although I'm not sure I could do it as much justice as you.”

Their conversation had gained attention but Will didn't care. He hadn't imagined it. Hannibal had been for dinner. Will gave a little smile to himself as he tuned out the sound of Hannibal being grilled by an incredulous Bev, Price and Zeller.

Maybe he wasn't an island just yet.


End file.
